


Those Familiar Scents

by MyLittleCornerOfSherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Autumn, Gen, Post-Reichenbach, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:58:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock/pseuds/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Autumn scents and sounds surround John on his walk.  A familiar, but out of place, scent finds him in his haven.  One that could only belong to Sherlock Holmes.   Feel free to apply your Johnlock goggles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Familiar Scents

**Author's Note:**

> For electricfriedchicken on tumblr who submitted this: "You know the days in autumn when the air is cool, dry, and ti feels like autumn in your gut. You breathe through your mouth and the air tastes like warm leaves and cool wing? That taste."
> 
> After having written this ficlet, I realized it could be a prequel to my ficlet Autumn After the Fall. See the end of the chapter for the link to that ficlet.

He kicks the leaves up as he walks, barely noticing as they flutter down and crunch under his feet. He walks, determined, a destination in mind. The only sounds are the wind rustling the leaves and the brittle, crisp crackling of the leaves as he walks over them.

John inhales, tasting the autumn air. He can taste the sun warmed leaves, exhaling their last breaths before being claimed by winter’s chill. The air holds a crispness, like that first bite of an apple freshly picked from a tree. Those scents stir something in his gut. It is almost peaceful.  Almost.

There is a heaviness in the air. The pressing weight guilt lays over him like a mantle on his shoulders. He shoves his hands in his pocket, hunching over with the unseen burden. He remembers, and blames himself. He should have seen but he didn’t. The final words he wishes he could take back.

Unseen by John, he is being watched. A figure follows him, noticing how John looks older than his years. How his once straight back, hunches over, no longer the soldier’s stride. The silent figure waits.  John will soon pass into the private grove that has been his destination since he set out.  John’s chosen haven.

John steps into the grove, a rich painting of golds and oranges. He looks up at the clear blue sky, and offers up a wordless apology. He sighs and closes his eyes, face turned upwards, hoping for the soul cleanse sunbeams can sometimes offer.

The figure steps out from behind the oak and ash trees. He waits for John to sense his presence.  

The breeze picks up a new scent and teases John’s nose with it. It’s a scent he knows all too well. The expensive aftershave that he’d never known another soul to wear. He turns on his heel and sees the other man in the clearing. Three words are uttered and John’s mantle of guilt is lifted. He’s so light headed he feels faint.

“I’m sorry, John,” Sherlock’s voice shakes. He sees John stumble, unsteady at the shock. Sherlock closes the gap and grabs his wrist. John grabs him by the coat, steadying himself. Warm tears fall down both their cheeks, a sharp contrast to the brisk breeze that surrounds them.  

“Tell me why later,” John chokes out, “Just...just stand still for now.” And so saying, he wraps his arms around Sherlock and embraces him, burying his face in Sherlock’s coat. Sherlock lowers his arms around his dearest friend. They hold each other close, neither man wanting to break the spell autumn has woven around them.

**Author's Note:**

> Autumn After the Fall: http://archiveofourown.org/works/700725


End file.
